Sitting on bus number sixty six
I watch the dull day through a greasy pane.
Trying to ignore the wall of passengers around me,
Their struggle to hold on against the strain.
It’s every day like this, the alarm clock, the toothbrush,
The tying of the shoes and the commute.
But today, I hold a secret, my Monday morning purchase,
And it flutters like a bird,
Caught in the pocket of my suit.
For today, at dawn, when the sun was barely up,
And all were struggling to work,
I went down to Joe’s, and said,
“Hey, give me five of those.”
Five ways to win!
Five lottery tickets!
Five shining stars, five rays of light,
Of gold.
I’m sold.
So many types of chances: pick six, win four!
The money nearly dances!
Buy three and score!
Black Jack, Instant Poker, Easy Money, State Lotto,
Pot of Gold, Fast Cash,
Got not cash,
But I’ve got to buy them all!
Play them all!
And then on TV there’s the bouncing balls,
Bouncing, bouncing,
Each with a number, air popped, my fate,
The Ten O’clock Drawing!
Turn it on! Don’t be late!
What’s the supplemental? Oh God!
What’s the supplemental? I need six lousy numbers!
Six lousy numbers to win.
But, I
Still have my tickets.
My five shining tickets,
Just scratch off their silver secret with a dime.
And I’ll play and I’ll pray for a day that’s not like this one
Not this bus, not this suit, not this time.
But maybe Tuesday I’ll be lucky.
Who needs odds, forget the odds.
Cross your fingers, make a wish, and try to cope
With a bus that’s all around, all around
And squeezing like a rope!
But a ticket’s in my pocket,
And its birdsong gives me hope.
One, one raindrop–
One tear from the sky.
Two, two people
standing with me at the bus stop.
Three at the stop.
Three minutes gone by.
Four–
For hours, I’ve been waiting,
(or at least it seems like hours)
waiting for a bus that just won’t come.
Five fingers counting off the minutes,
growing cold with the damp–
Five fingers gone numb.
Bus 66 where are you?
Where are you 66?
Again, I ask my wristwatch–
“Bus 66?” it ticks.
I turn to ask the others,
the two who also wait,
but they stand beneath umbrellas,
unafraid of being late!
They don’t clock the passing of the minutes.
They don’t share my worry and my doubt.
Their colorful umbrellas swirl and twirl
and shut me out!
One drop–
shatters into many.
Two people–
sheltered from the sky.
Three at the stop–
only one, unlike the others,
is drenched to the bone,
while the rest are warm and dry.
Four, five–
I play my counting game,
as I wait for 66,
searching for that distant flame!
Two headlights,
just around the corner.
Two yellow suns,
swallowed by the rain.
Hey!
Watch it!
Whaddya think you’re doing?
Don’t you know that a bus just can’t fit in this lane?
Say!
Stop it!
No, I’ll never let you in,
Though your squeaking wheels are threatening
And your driving is insane!
You can signal all you want,
But I won’t let you change lanes!
Gotta horn and I can use it!
Yeah, I’ll blast your friggin’ brains!
I’ll creep up and do maneuvers,
I’ll squeeze you out at last!
Can’t you see that I’m important?
Can’t you tell I’m driving fast?
Gotta meeting at eleven,
Yes, a meeting at eleven,
All the guys are waiting for me,
And I’ve got to wow them now!
Must present them with a project,
An idea with all the answers,
I’ve got slides, charts, colored graphs,
I’ll show them when and how.
For today, I’ll be their golden boy,
The answer to their prayers.
I’ll speak of corporate earnings
And project the market shares
At eleven,
Waiting for me at eleven…
I hold their future in my hands,
I see it written on each face –
They’ll hang upon my every word,
The snap of my briefcase!
Yes, today I’m gonna wow them,
I’ve got confidence to spare –
With my perfectly creased tie
And my newly blackened hair…
Nothing’s gonna stop me!
As I press down on the pedal,
But my car just inches forward
To the sound of screeching metal…
Well that’s just great…
I’m in back of the bus.
Yes, I’m stuck behind the bus.
You cut in front and finally got in my way.
You stinking hunk of metal.
You were always out to get me.
You’ll make me wait – you want to see
Me pay.
Your choking fumes are in my face!
There’s no way to get by.
Your sooty bottom’s everyplace!
You blot out sun and sky!
Oh why,
Oh why today?
Why can’t you understand?
Why can’t you hear my honking horn?
I had it all precisely planned:
I’d arrive at ten thirty,
Call ahead on my cell phone.
Oh God – could it be I left a slide or two back home?
I need those slides for my presentation!
Golden boy,
The next sensation’s
Stuck behind a bus.
Just like the rest of you I’m stuck.
Can’t go forward,
Can’t go backward,
Running out of time and luck.
Adjust the rearview mirror!
Roll the windows down for air!
Can’t believe what I’m seeing –
Could that be a greying hair?
I thought I’d dyed it black!
Got a meeting at eleven –
Now I can’t go back!
Got a meeting at eleven
All the guys are waiting for me –
At eleven waiting for me –
Waiting for a man whose hair is going grey!
Got a meeting at eleven
But the world got in my way.
Got a meeting at eleven
But I won’t get there –
Not today.
— Francine Trester